“Get down.” He spoke in a whisper and pulled at her arm. She knelt behind the desk while she continued her conversation with building security.
“I just called an ambulance for her,” she said. Nolan’s voice cracked on the word “her.”
“We’ve got to get out of here. This man’s after you. You stay and he’ll kill more people to get at you. Either he’s making his way through the office right now, searching, or he’s waiting in that front hall to pick you off when you leave.”
“There are security cameras that record this area. Let me replay the video.” She kept low while she pulled out a sliding shelf that held a keyboard. Smith watched her access the security program. Within seconds the screen split into four quadrants and displayed various locations inside the office.
“Wait, before you go back in time, do you see anyone new? Someone who doesn’t belong there?” He saw her checking each display. All the hallways were empty. She shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said. She switched up the view to zoom in on the reception area, but the screen went blank. Smith looked at the ceiling and saw the round cover that masked the closed-circuit camera. He couldn’t discern whether the lens still functioned.
“Wouldn’t I see an LED pinpoint if the camera was working?”
“Yes,” Nolan whispered.
“Well, there’s nothing.”
“He did something to the circuit for the reception area only,” Nolan said.
“So most likely he’s waiting in the hallway. Go back into the interior,” he said. She punched the button that opened the door and darted through it. Smith followed, catching the door on the return swing before it closed and locked once again. She was headed straight to her office. It was an amateur’s move, because even though she hadn’t seen anything suspicious on the video, that didn’t mean the man wasn’t hiding in there. It was exactly where an assassin would look for her.
“Don’t go in there.” It was all Smith could do not to shriek through the hall. Nolan disappeared through the door as if she hadn’t heard him. He sprinted in behind her.
She was standing at her desk sliding a tablet computer into a black leather attaché case. An electric power cord followed as well as a Filofax with a burgundy cover and a small clutch purse. She zipped the bag closed and headed back out, passing to his left. She shot him a quick look, but said nothing as she raked a short, navy trench coat off a hook on the door. He grabbed her arm before she had a chance to step through the entrance and held her in place while he reached into his windbreaker and removed his gun from its shoulder holster. Nolan’s eyes widened in fear when she saw it.
“Relax, I’m not going to use it on you. Though I should,” he said in a low voice. “Which way is the exit to the stairwell?”
“To the right. Let go of me.” He didn’t. He’d had enough and he wasn’t about to take orders from her.
“Not a chance. We’ll leave together. What about the other employees? How many are in their offices?”
She looked at her watch. “Probably none. They’re all in the boiler room and will stay there until the market closes.”
“Is that the big room that you were in before we came here?”
She nodded.
“What about bathrooms?”
“The boiler room has two connected to it.”
“Good. There’s safety in numbers and I doubt he’ll approach that room. They should be safe enough until security arrives. I’ll go out first and make sure the hall is clear.”
“You do that.” Her voice was tight with anger. He ignored it.
Smith let go of her, moved to the door and edged out, looking both ways before waving to her to follow. He spied the stairwell exit sign to the right at the far end and started in that direction. He was ten steps closer to the stairs before he realized that she wasn’t behind him. He glanced back and saw her vanish around a corner.
My God, I’m going to kill her myself, he thought. He turned and followed, catching up with her as she stood in a small alcove that held a freight elevator. She swiped a key card across the panel and hit the down button. She confronted him and her face held a mixture of distrust, determination, and barely controlled panic.
“I don’t know who you really are or why you came here, but the minute you did, you brought death and violence. I neither want nor need your help. Take the stairs. I’m taking the freight elevator. If you follow me, I’ll scream bloody murder.”
The elevator doors opened. Smith was relieved to see that it was empty. She stepped in and he followed, wrapping one hand around her mouth and the other around her waist, once again holding her still. Once he was sure of his grip he pushed her into the elevator’s corner and out of view of the open door. She began to struggle, and he could feel her open her lips as if she intended to bite his hand. He leaned his weight into her, holding her against the elevator wall.
“Now you listen to me,” he said into her ear. “There’s an assassin out there who intends to kill both me and a man that I like very much. He also happens to want to kill you and even though right now that outcome is starting to sound appealing, I want some answers before you die. Until I get them, I’m not leaving your side. So scream all you want. I’ll have Russell at the CIA talk to whatever rent-a-cop Landon Investments hires to protect its employees, and I can assure you the outcome will be that you and I will leave here together.” He punched the down key. It didn’t light. He hit it again. Nothing. “Use your damn key card and get us off this floor. Now.” He lowered his hand from her face and stepped back. She was once again flushed with rage, but now also with outright fear. She swiped her key card across the panel and hit the down button again. The doors closed. He felt remorse starting to creep into his consciousness and tamped it down immediately. This was life or death. She’d have to deal with her distrust on her own.
“When the doors open, what floor will it be?” he said. He sounded harsher than he intended.
“Loading dock.” She replied in a calm voice despite her high color and obvious distress. She was cool in a crisis, he had to give her that.
“Do you have a car?”
She shook her head. “Not here.”
“Do you have one at home that we can use?”
Her face set. She didn’t reply.
“It’s to drive to the safe house. Otherwise I have to call the CIA to get us.”
She nodded. “Call the CIA. I feel safer with them than you.” He found he was actually a bit upset with that statement. He wasn’t used to being cast as a villain. Once again he tamped down the feeling. If he’d acted badly, it was not only understandable but necessary. She was alive because he had.
“Fine. I’ll do that.” He opened his phone but didn’t have a signal. He’d get to the street and call then.
The elevator doors opened and Smith stared down the barrel of a gun.
16
Smith knocked the gun upward and spun left. He heard the compressed sound of a silenced bullet. Nolan swung her attaché case in an arc, hitting the attacker dead center in the torso, and he stumbled backward a step. She tripped forward, carried by the momentum. Smith fired, hitting the killer in the chest. The bullet thudded into what must have been a bulletproof vest and the man grunted with pain. A black balaclava covered his face, and Smith could hear the harsh rasp of the man’s breathing through the hole for his mouth. The killer sprinted sideways to hide behind a metal garbage can as the elevator doors began to close. Smith grabbed at Nolan to pull her back into the car.
“Get us to the lobby,” Smith said. Nolan swiped her key card and hit the button. Her hair had fallen out of its clip, and her knuckles were white on the handle of the case. She pressed herself against the elevator’s wall, her eyes wide with fear. Smith flipped the safety on his gun and re-holstered it, pulling the jacket over to hide it from view. “When the doors open, I want you to act with complete calm. Do you understand?”